Isolation
by FidgetGlitterBlossom
Summary: Banished from Enchancia, Cedric has taken up residence in a small cabin in the woods, along with adopting a curious hobby. As the years slowly stretch on, his friendship with a particular princess twists into something darker. But there's one thing he never stopped to consider: little girls grow up. Nothing could have prepared him for what Sofia has become in his absence. Dark!
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note:** D is a genius! A while ago, he got my old phone working long enough to recover my writing files. I was busy with other things at the time, and I'm kind of nutso about backups, so I didn't think there was anything major on there, but a discussion last night reminded me to finally have a look at them. Most of them were backed up, and a few that weren't were just bad. This bleak, dark, crazy story has 2 finished chapters (plus a timeline) so far, and I kind of like it, so here goes. AU that jumps canon halfway through Day of the Sorcerers.

 **! Serious trigger warnings!**

* * *

Cedric lay on his side atop a checkered blanket in the secret garden, watching Sofia run through the lush grass nearby. Today, she was picking vibrant sunflowers, piling them into a basket he'd given her. The sight should have been heart warming, but the time where these diversions really made him feel anything had passed long ago.

"Mr Cedric, this one is for you." She skidded to a halt above him, peering down excitedly as she held the large yellow flower out to him. He accepted her gift, then waved her away. She was unphased by his indifference, of course, because he'd created her to be remarkably cheerful no matter what. Unsatisfied with the fantasy, he produced his paintbrush and muttered the words ' **Outo Paintuvo** ', and in an instant he was transported back to the dilapidated old cottage. With a groan, he lifted the newest painting off the easel and hung it on the wall, alongside so many others.

He shouldn't be so bothered by his solitude, he often tried to reason with himself. Until the princess came he was always alone, and it certainly never mattered to him before. Trying to convince himself that he didn't miss her was just as useless as his attempts at filling the void with counterfeit versions, it would seem, because these days the cheerful girl who had once been his only friend was constantly on his mind.

 _It will never be enough._ A disturbing whisper in the back of his head tried to persuade him. He squeezed his eyes shut, pinched the bridge of his nose sharply, and drew in several deep breaths, trying to chase it away. _Take what you want, and have your revenge on Roland, too._ It was his own voice, and he wondered how he could possibly hope to win a battle of wits against himself.

"I won't!" He insisted out loud, his eyes scanning the artwork again. This achieved a moment of quiet, a temporary truce between what he wanted and his flimsy notion of morality. He dropped into his bed, situated in a corner of the only real room in the home, and waved a hand through the air to snuff out the lights.

...

He woke in the middle of the night, overcome with heart-pounding, white knuckled terror. Nightmares were common for him, and he tried his best to calm, but the fast, steady thrum of his pulse threatened to drive him mad. _Madder_. He amended, still gasping for air. He could just go peek. It occurred to him, not for the first time. It would mean his head if he were caught, but would that really be so much worse than what he'd already become?

 _Just once. Just to see how she's doing._ He was too tired to fight back. Not because he'd been ripped so abruptly from his dream, or because he had a tendancy not to sleep at all for days on end, until his eyes forced themselves shut without his permission. No, he was worn down by the relentless assault he had carried out on himself day in and day out for years. Remorse, anger, and longing twisted up inside of him, poisoning his head with all manner of atrocious thoughts, and as she had been in the palace, Sofia was the only good and pure thing that existed within the walls of his cottage. _Only for one second._

...

As the cloud of thick smoke that accompanied his transportation spell dissipated, Cedric frowned at the room he now found himself standing in. _This can't be right._ He'd heard rumors that the princess was sent off to a boarding school after his banishment, but this was certainly not like any dormitory he'd ever seen. _Maybe the spell didn't work._ He reasoned, taking stock of the filthy, Spartan surroundings. As he spun to examine everything, his eyes came to rest on a small metal cot, the bed's legs suspiciously affixed to the wall on three sides.

On it, he spied a frail young woman, definitely not the princess he recalled from his days at the palace. Taking halting steps in her direction, he bent over to examine her. She was thin, alarmingly so... Bordering dangerously on emaciated, in fact. Her hair was a matted, grimy mess, appearing as if no one had brushed it in years. There was no chance that the spell worked, this couldn't be his Sofia.

Though he told himself that, wasn't the hair about the right colour, if one ignored all the dirt? He conjured a mental image of the bouncing russet curls, using them as a basis of comparison. While he was trying to determine her identity, the sound of a key turning in the door alerted him that they would soon have company. Panicking, he grabbed the sleeping girl and transported back to his cottage.

 _What have I done?_ His hands were shaking, but that didn't disturb her as she lay motionless in his arms. _I just kidnapped this girl..._ He shifted her weight to a more comfortable position, but this didn't cause her to stir either, and he realized, later than he should have, that something was very wrong with her.

"Sofia?" He hissed, but there was no answer. Giving little care for the well being of his bedding, he laid her down on top of his covers, stepping back to examine her. His eyes shot wide at the sight of her long white sleeves, soaked through by bright red liquid. His attention traveled further downward, to the deep, angry gashes that criss-crossed her wrist.

Imposter or not, if he didn't act quickly she would surely die. Tugging one of his gloves off, he lifted her already chilled arm, running his hand across the wounds while visualizing that the flesh was repairing itself. He checked on the progress, then repeated the steps once more before switching to her other arm. He'd never been very good at healing spells, so she'd be left with the scars, but at least she would live.

When he finished, the girl sucked in a great amount of air before doing something Cedric was not at all prepared for. She launched herself upright and howled. An unearthly cry filled with unspeakable anguish. After that, she collapsed back onto his mattress, unconscious again.

With nothing to do but let her rest, Cedric deflated into his ratty old armchair, keeping his eyes trained on his rather suspicious houseguest.

* * *

To be clear: Cedric's weird obsession... 100% not sexual. I tried to write it that way, but I just want to add a note to explicitly state it. In his mind, she's still an 11 year old girl, and 'taking what he wants' is as basic as getting his friend back. Is it still squicky that he literally starts the chapter off obsessing and contemplating taking her from her home to have her close? And that he has an entire crazy wall of paintings? Of course! But not sexual, k?


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's note:** So, this chapter was originally broken into two separate ones, and I planned on promising that the way Sofia spoke in the beginning was due to her panic, and she is, in fact, able to speak normally. Since it's now one chapter, and you can see for yourselves by the end that she's capable of it, I suppose the warning still stands so that no one gets less than halfway through and decides against finishing because of the way she talks in the beginning.

The Latin prayer, I have been assured by a friend of mine who took Latin all through our upper secondary years, is the best translation for "Protect me from what I want." Double purpose because it applies to what's going on, and is also what I was listening to on loop while writing the second half of this chapter. (The first half was done to Bruise Pristine)

The other foreign phrase I'm intentionally not translating just yet, though I'm sure some of you will google it or can already read it.

* * *

Hours had passed since the girl let out her blood curdling howl, and Cedric's eyelids were just fluttering closed. Sensing motion in the room, he shook himself back to alertness in time to see her gracelessly crawl into the farthest corner of his bed. Her eyes, brilliant sky blue orbs made all the more striking by the sunken, dark frames that held them, locked on to him, expressing a mixture of terror and utter contempt.

He knew those eyes. Hell, he'd painted them over a thousand times, taking great care to get them just right because they were one of her most endearing features. He could still remember the first time he looked into them, the way they completely drew his attention away from the amulet he coveted. He admired those eyes back when it would be easier to despise the child who possessed them. There could be no doubt as to her identity, though he almost wished she were some other girl, given the eerie state she was in.

Standing, he took a step toward her, but she only backed impossibly closer to the wall, splaying her hands out to brace herself.

"It's alright, Sofia." He tried to assure her, but she shook her head furiously, squeezing her eyes shut and covering her ears.

"You're not real. You're not real." She began to chant endlessly. When he sank onto the mattress beside her, trying to pry her bony arms away gently enough to prevent any injury, she flinched away from his touch. "You're just another of his tricks."

"I assure you, I'm quite real." He tried, but she showed no signs of calming.

"No. This is the weißer Raum. Or, or glamour magic." She insisted, trying to put more distance between them despite the fact that there was nowhere else for her to go. "Not real, not real."

Deciding that getting closer to the princess was only making things worse, Cedric backed away. He searched for something that might relax her, his eyes landing on the door to his washroom. She was absolutely filthy, caked in dirt and dried blood, so he reasoned that maybe she would settle down after a bath.

"Don't move." Her eyes opened, and she anxiously tracked him as he hurried out of the room to fill the tub. He tried not to think too much on the fragile condition she was in, but found it impossible to concentrate on anything else. _'One of his tricks.'_ She'd said. But who was _he_ and why was Sofia so frightened of him? The answers would have to come later, he concluded with a sigh as he slipped his fingers under the tap to test the water temperature.

"The bath's running." He muttered, returning to the room to find her gaze transfixed on the wall of paintings opposite the bed. "I-I can explain..." He trailed off, wondering if there was anything he could say that would excuse their presence in his cottage. Sofia didn't seem particularly interested in hearing his rationale, at any rate, so he gave up. When several awkward minutes passed with her remaining unsettlingly still, Cedric attempted to approach her again, though he was met with the same frantic results.

"Look, I don't pretend to know what has you so spooked, but just... Go and take a bath." Her gaze followed his gesturing hand, but she made no attempt to do as she was told. "It'll make you feel better." Something in his words made her react as if he'd struck her, and if it were possible for her to cower anymore than she already was, then that is what she did, tucking her arms defensively between her bare knees and ducking her head to hide her face from him.

For all the impressions she was giving off that she wanted nothing to do with him, he was curious as to why she hadn't already tried to leave. The door that led outside was roughly a metre from where she sat, and he'd left her alone long enough for her to notice this and flee, were she so inclined. He flirted with the option of simply returning her to her family's palace, for her own sake, but couldn't quite bring himself to do so before he had a chance to find out what was wrong with her.

"Sofia..." He cooed, easing back onto the bed. "You said I was a trick, right? Who do you think is tricking you?" Her continued refusal to speak was almost as alarming as the things she spat out before she went mute, but he hid his own unease as he reached out to gingerly pat her shoulder.

She allowed the touch, but her whole body was tensed, coiled like a cobra preparing to strike.

"If you don't get up and go in the bath, I'll have to take you there myself." He pressed, unsure of whether the threat would snap her out of it or simply make things worse. He'd tried everything else, already, so he wasn't left with many options. "I don't think you're too keen on that idea, so-"

Before he could finish the sentence, she slid past him to climb down from the bed. Unfortunately, this granted him a view of her legs, pasty white flesh littered with bluish-purple markings in various stages of healing. His heart raced as he examined them in the moments before she stood, swaying on her limbs before almost immediately collapsing to the floor. _All that blood she lost..._

He was at her side in an instant, collecting her into his arms to carry her across the room. She thrashed and caterwauled like a wild beast as he did his best not to drop her.

"Stop that! You'll get hurt." As it was, he had to set her in the tub still dressed, because he didn't trust his own strength in the wake of her tantrum.

"Wash yourself." He instructed once she went silent and motionless again. Her head shifted in a nearly imperceptible shake. "Why not?" Rubbing his face wearily as he waited for another reply that wouldn't come, he tugged his gloves off and conjured a stool to the floor behind the clawfoot tub.

"You're making this much more difficult than it need be." He sat and picked up the soap tray, lathering a wash cloth until it was covered in foam. If he stayed behind her, he wouldn't be able to see anything that would make the situation more awkward than it already was, so that was exactly what he planned to do.

He pressed against the back of her soaked shirt in a silent demand for her to lean forward, surprised when she actually complied. Reaching down into the water with his free hand, he peeled the tight wet fabric up as far as he could get it, which was only about halfway due to her arms being pinned tightly to her sides.

It was enough to see that her back was also covered with bruises, and some extremely disturbing scars. Thoughtlessly, he reached a finger out to trace one of the raised, root-like sepia lines, trying to ignore the way she jerked away from his touch. He recognized them for what they were immediately, lashes. He had a fair share of his own, though he couldn't fathom for the life of him why the princess would bear such markings.

"The man you're afraid of - he did all of this?" She drew her legs up to her chest and curled around them, and Cedric set about scrubbing her back, taking great care not to press too hard against her injuries. _How could Roland let this happen?_ It made no sense, this was the same child that the king had been reluctant to send out on Buttercup outings for fear that she would get even a single scratch.

"Have you told your father about this?" All she did was laugh bitterly and hug herself tighter. "I need to get this all the way off to clean the rest." Cedric prodded, tugging at the shirt again. He could easily use magic to remove her clothing, but he severely doubted that it would inspire more trust in him, so he refrained.

When she stubbornly persisted in keeping her arms down, he sighed in frustration. Intending to switch to cleaning her hair, instead, he placed a palm on her head to urge her under the water. This renewed her instinct to fight against him, and she reached up with both hands and dragged her talon-like nails down his arm, drawing blood in their wake.

"You little hellcat!" He spat out, losing his temper with the girl. "Is this how you treat people who are trying to help you?" He regretted the words right away, certain that getting angry with her would serve no purpose, but she didn't react to the outburst in the slightest.

"I-if you wash yourself, then I won't touch you again." He breathed, growing exhausted with the one sided argument. "I'll stand right there by the door where you can see me, and I'll keep my back turned the entire time."

Accepting the tiny nod she gave as an affirmative, he stood and marched to the door, facing the wooden surface while the soft sounds of her bathing behind him confirmed something akin to progress.

When a few minutes passed without the quiet splashing sounds, Cedric returned to the tub, careful to keep his promise about not looking as he reached in and pulled the plug so the water could drain. While he waited for it to empty, he retrieved a threadbare bath towel and approached her from behind again, wrapping the large cloth around her slim shoulders. She hugged it tightly to her chest, keeping her gaze adverted from him as he reached under her arms and helped her to her unsteady feet.

"What I said earlier, it was petty and foolish." He whispered as he led her back to the bed, bracing her body with one arm while he pulled off the soiled coverlet with the other. She curled into the foetal position above his sheets while he fetched a clean blanket for her.

After covering her with something more substantial than just the towel, he dug through his drawers for a seldom used pair of knee breeches, a leather belt, and an old linen tunic, all of which he tossed on the bed beside her.

"Get dressed, then we'll see about untangling that mop." She opened her eyes to peer up at him, confusion and relief warring for control of her expression, and he tried not to make assumptions about what she had thought he meant to do with her once she was cleaned up.

He busied himself with the task of making tea in the small kitchen area, giving her enough time to change into the borrowed clothes. When he felt it had been long enough, he turned to spot her sitting naked on the bed, inhaling deeply against the top he'd provided for her. She tugged it modestly against herself as she noticed him watching her, and he spun on his heels to give her more privacy. _That was... unexpected._ He quickly pushed any further thoughts on the matter deep down into his subconscious, aware that now was not even close to an appropriate time for noticing how the princess had grown up somewhat more than he had imagined.

With the tea finished, he checked that she was properly clothed and brought a cup over to set it on the nightstand.

"What's in it?" She demanded, her voice hoarse from all of the shrieking she'd done earlier. Cedric's jaw nearly dropped as he studied her again.

"What do you think is in it?" He questioned. "It's only tea, Sofia. Half milk and too much sugar, the same way you've always taken it." She chuckled, leaning forward to gather her battered, rail thin legs to her chest.

"This is your best spell yet." She hummed, turning her head to acknowledge the wall of paintings again. "Those pictures, the way I took my tea... These clothes even smell just like him."

"You still believe I'm this other man." Cedric concluded, taking a seat in his arm chair. "Who is he? Clearly he has some sort of power over you... A teacher from that awful boarding school, perhaps?" He frowned, trying to discern from her guarded expression if he'd hit on the right answer or not.

"Boarding school. Yes, that's what they told everyone, isn't it?" She chuckled again, a dark, emotionless laugh that wrenched Cedric's heart.

"You mean you-"

"You know damn well where I've been!" She screamed, grabbing the teacup and hurling it at the floor between them, where it shattered, leaving slivered fragments of China and a puddle of brown liquid. "I won't play this game, so do what you came for and let me go back to my room already."

"If you're so set on leaving, why haven't you just walked out?" Cedric quizzed, waving a hand to the door beside her.

"We both know it's locked." She mumbled without even looking over at it. "How many times do you expect me to fall for that? You've already proven that I can't escape you even in death. Isn't that enough for you?"

"I've proven... Is that why you think I saved you?" Cedric's mind raced, desperately trying to find something he could say to convince the girl of his true identity. Her admission that her wounds were self-inflicted in order to get away from her tormentor was upsetting, but he could only deal with one issue at a time, and it seemed safe to assume that the others would be easier to handle if she recognized him as her friend, first. "Why would this man pretend to be me?"

"Because you get a twisted thrill from the way I respond to him." She seethed, curling her fists at her sides so tightly that the pronounced knuckles blanched. "But I won't, not this time. It doesn't matter how good your spell is. Cedric is gone and he's never coming back."

 _The way she responds? What the hell is that supposed to mean?_ He couldn't help but dwell on the statement, picking apart the words with morbid curiosity.

"I've decided that it's okay to hate him, if it makes these visits even the tiniest bit less fun for you." She went on, pinning him with the coldest stare he'd ever seen. "If it's for this reason, he would forgive me, so it's okay."

 _What has he done to you, child?_ Cedric sipped his tea silently, giving her a chance to let more details slip, but the bold and angry front she was putting on was melting away before his eyes. Soon, she laid back on the bed, rolling to face away from him.

She was furiously whispering something over and over again, so Cedric set down his tea cup and tiptoed to the side of the bed, leaning in to hear her. "Protege me ab eo quod velim." Her hands were clasped, and it dawned on him that she was praying, a ritual he'd never known her to engage in before. He started to reach for her, eager to reassure the princess that he meant her no harm, but stopped because he was afraid of upsetting her all over again.

"Let's... I'll see what I can do about that hair, now." He muttered, digging through the bedside table's drawer for his hairbrush. When he found it and sat behind her on the bed, she flinched, but didn't stop her quiet chanting. It was disconcerting, but if it made her feel even slightly better to do so, then he wasn't going to protest.

"I'm going to touch right at the bottom here, okay?" He paused to give her a chance to protest, then lifted the ends of her matted hair and ran the bristles through. Her voice grew louder, and she increased the speed of her prayers, squeezing her eyes shut and clasping her hands more firmly together, but Cedric tried to ignore it.

While she was sleeping, he'd harboured a childish fantasy that perhaps she could stay with him for a while. Now that it was clear that his mere presence was causing her distress, for reasons beyond his control, he wasn't entirely sure what to do with the girl. He could clean her up, send her home to her father. Maybe Roland would do a better job at keeping his daughter safe if given a second chance. He'd been convinced of it earlier, until Sofia said that _they_ told everyone she'd been sent to boarding school.

Her eyes popped open and focused on a spot outside his window as her whispers fell silent. Cedric frowned down at her back, trying to make some sense of all her sudden and drastic behaviour changes. She was defending herself against something, clearly, using an entire litany of coping mechanisms, some of which he himself was familiar with, but to what extent she'd suffered, and for how long, to reach such a point were things she had no intention of letting him be privy to.

"Your father," He began, noting the way she cringed. "If I sent you back to him, this would only keep happening?" She opened her mouth to speak, then thought better of it, returning to her absent examination of the branches outside.

"I see..." He relented, gathering all he needed from her reaction. Though it was hard to imagine the king playing a part in the ill that had befallen her, there really wasn't any other possible interpretation. "This part's done, so I'm moving my hand higher." He warned, though if she heeded his words she gave no indication.

 _It's like brushing a doll's hair..._ He mused, keeping an eye on her in case her mood shifted again. She remained perfectly, deathly frozen beneath his touch, breathing so lightly that the rise and fall of her chest was hardly visible. Her distant blue eyes barely blinked, even during the times he hit a snag that he thought might sting.

"If there's nowhere else that you'll be safe, then it's okay to stay here." Was it really worth trying to talk to her when she wouldn't answer? He didn't know, but it passed the time at the very least. "I'll... I'll sleep in the chair. Or we could take shifts in the bed."

He didn't say anything else for a while, the only sound in the cottage coming from the wooden brush raking through her tangled russet locks.

"Even if you don't believe me, I promise not to hurt you. I won't let anyone else do it, either. Never again, Sofia."


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's note:** This chapter was the hardest so far to write... mostly because of the ending. For those keeping track, this one was written mostly to Mad Hatter by Melanie Martinez, and the rest was Placebo's Song to Say Goodbye. Not really relevant, just fun facts. Also, there's notes after because I don't want to give things away at the beginning.

Trigger warning! Really, this whole story has one, but some chapters need it said an extra time.

* * *

Sofia was already sitting up in bed with her back to the room when Cedric's nightmares again shook him from his sleep, and once he calmed enough to form rational thought, he wondered if she woke before him or simply hadn't slept at all. He supposed it was likely the latter, since it was clear that she still didn't trust him. He shifted in his chair and cleared his throat, trying to alert her to his presence gently to avoid startling the girl, but her eyes never left the small window.

"I've decided to cooperate." She informed him, masking any hint of emotion from her tone.

"Because you believe me?" He quizzed, standing from his seat to prepare some more tea, though he had strong doubts that she would drink it.

"Of course not." She spat, jarred out of her cold indifference by his question. "It seems to be the only way you'll send me back to my room, so I'll do what I have to."

"I've seen your room, so I can't imagine why you're so eager to get back to it." He countered as he filled the ceramic pot with water. He put it on the cast iron stove, the only heat source for the cabin, and stretched aching muscles while he waited for it to brew.

"I'm only _eager_ to get as far away as I can from you." She replied and Cedric frowned to himself, wondering if it was even possible to change her mind about who he really was. Perhaps the damage done was too intense, the princess he once knew buried too deeply in the child's psyche to ever be reached. Then again, she had broken through his defenses and coaxed out the good in him, once. There was no reason he could think of as to why he shouldn't make every effort to return the favor now.

"Let's play a little game, Sofia..." He began, returning to his seat. This was clearly a poor choice of words because she turned and regarded him with the eyes of a caged animal.

"I despise your 'games'." She hissed, putting as much distance between them as she could without leaving the bed. Cedric held up his hands apologetically, catching his mistake.

"Sorry, I didn't... An experiment, then?" He paused but she gave no indication that this wording was better or worse than the last. "Entertain for a moment that I actually am Cedric, the real one. Don't worry, I won't move from this spot, so just go ahead."

"For what purpose?" She demanded, looking him over suspiciously.

Cedric thought it over, accepting that he had nothing to offer her in return. He could vow to send her back to her room like she asked, but he had no intention on ever sending her back to that awful place, and lying wouldn't earn her trust.

"Because I'm asking." He settled on, leaning back to wait for her answer. "Please? You did say you would cooperate."

"Fine." She bit out through clenched teeth, digging her long nails into her palms. He considered trying to stop her, not wishing to see her hurt herself again, but he had agreed to stay put, so he did.

"Tell me where your room is." It was the easiest question he had for her, so it seemed to be the best place to start.

"Everyone knows that, it's in a boarding school." She smiled sweetly, and he found it alarming how deceptive the child could be when pushed.

"The truth." He insisted, but the whistle sounded just as her mouth opened.

"Aren't you going to get that?" He shook his head. "Why not?"

"Because I promised not to move. Remember?" For a brief, shining moment, the girl showed something other than contempt, but it was gone just as quickly. "You're going to make it. That way you can be sure I haven't poisoned it."

"How do you know I won't?" He mulled over the question for a second before answering.

"Because you agreed to pretend I was the real Cedric." She scoffed, so he worked out a better answer. "Because I trust you. _And_ I don't keep anything dangerous in the cabin."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that." Sofia mumbled, sliding off the bed to stand on unsteady feet, though they supported her weight better than before. "There's razors. There in the bathroom." She pointed, but he kept his gaze fixed on her instead of following her finger.

She peeked over her shoulder at him, searching for a reaction, though he wasn't sure what she was expecting to find.

"I'd wager there's knives in these drawers, assuming you did everything you could to make this realistic." She lifted the pot from the stove, coming dangerously close to catching her loose sleeve on the heat source. Fear of her injuring herself once again brought Cedric dangerously close to breaking his word, but the moment passed without incident. "An old cabin like this is bound to get mice, which means there should be strychnine beneath the sink here."

"You've made your point." He told her firmly, not wanting to get derailed before he had a chance to get proper answers out of her.

"Have I? I didn't even get to the potion ingredients you'd keep on hand... If you were really Cedric." She narrowed her eyes at him, the animosity returning, then spun to make the tea. "But you aren't Cedric, are you... _Doctor_?"

Cedric's eyes shot open at this, and he began to connect the pieces, conjuring up the image of the disgusting conditions he'd found her in. It wasn't unheard of for a family member to be sent off and a cover story concocted to explain their sudden absence, though until now he'd never personally seen it happen.

"Your room is in a hospital, then." She ignored him as she prepared the tea and returned with it, handing him one of the cups. As a show of trust, he raised the mug slightly in a silent toast before drinking it. "Or rather, it's in an asylum." He sounded the last word out, noting the way she cringed, doing a poor job of suppressing her distaste for the topic.

"That's where they put people who've gone mad, isn't it?" Cedric nodded, setting down his tea.

"But you're not, are you?" Sofia took a long, languid sip from her cup, then pressed it between her palms, smiling slightly at the warmth.

"Aren't I?" Cedric was starting to understand that the short, controlled answers were another of her defensive skills, a way to deflect when she didn't like the direction of a conversation. No, more like when she feared where it was heading.

"You know what I think?" He shifted in his seat, and he could see the way she tensed up, preparing for him to approach her despite what he'd said. "I don't believe you're crazy at all. What I see is a frightened little girl doing everything she can to protect herself."

"Is that your professional opinion?" Her tone oozed sarcasm as she sat forward, arching one slender coppery eyebrow in his direction.

"You forgot your end of the bargain." He pointed out, lifting his cup again. "You're supposed to be talking to your sorcerer, not your doctor."

"So what else does _he_ wish to know?" The chill was in her words again, and Cedric worried that she might shut down on him, soon.

"How long have you been in the asylum?" Sofia drew her legs up again, shutting her eyes tightly, and he felt terribly guilty for making her uncomfortable but he needed to know these things if he was going to protect her.

"Three years." His eyes widened as her answer sunk in. _That's how long ago... She was only eleven years old!_

"With the same doctor?" She unfolded, and Cedric mistook the motion for her getting interested in the discussion again, but instead she turned back to the window and laid down in the bed.

"I'm tired." Sofia claimed quietly.

"You wouldn't answer questions about your doctor if I- if Cedric asked?" It felt awkward to talk about himself in the third person, but if it was what he needed to do, he was determined to get the hang of it.

"Not a word." Grasping that the experiment was over, Cedric stood from the chair and approached the bed, peeking over to find her laying with her eyes closed tightly, her hands folded in front of her.

"Why not?" He prodded, watching her lips begin to move in the silent Latin prayer from before. She stopped and let out a deep breath, opening her brilliant blue eyes to glare at him with annoyance.

"It would make him think less of me." He was pinned in place by her gaze, too confused by the statement to form a proper reply. "I'd never tell him anything that would change the way he looked at me."

So that was it. For all his grand ideas of trying to convince her that he was who he appeared to be, it turned out that he might very well need her to keep believing he was this abhorrent doctor if he expected her to give him anything substantial.

"I was wrong earlier." It was barely audible, and Cedric found himself leaning in to hear her better, placing one hand on the mattress behind her to brace himself. "I much prefer your sick games to this 'experiment'."

"Sofia, I have one more question..." She closed her eyes again, trying to shut him out. "Are you in the asylum right now?"

"Of course not. You could disguise one of the rooms this well, but I've never seen any large enough to pass for an entire cabin." She rolled over, looking past him to scan her surroundings. "This is, we're some place else."

Whoever her doctor was, he possessed fairly strong magic. Or Sofia believed he did. Cedric couldn't be sure which was true. He returned to his chair to finish his tea and let the girl get some much needed rest, though she mostly tossed and turned, getting herself hopelessly tangled in his sheets.

He was well aware that she was manipulating him, guarding her secrets and her emotions closely. Even the few details he'd gained were given explicitly on her terms. If having the sensation of control was necessary for her comfort, then he would just have to be patient and wait for her to reveal things at her own pace.

 _Besides_ , his mind whispered. _She's here, and that's what matters._ Having her near him, even in this fragile state, was certainly preferable to being without her. He could overcome the obstacles she presented, so long as it meant that he wouldn't be separated from Sofia again. He approached the bed silently and ghosted his gloved hand over her wild copper tendrils, past her shoulder, and down her arm, taking great care not to make any actual contact. _How did you manage to grow so much?_

Sofia flung herself onto her other side, muttering a phrase Cedric recognized from when she first woke up, though he had no idea what it meant. "Weißer Raum..." It was clearly another language, but not one of the several he was learned in.

...

Cedric couldn't remember falling asleep, but he must have, because the next thing he knew he was dragged back to reality by the rather inconvenient growl of his stomach. His eyes immediately shifted to the bed, where he found her awake, staring vacantly at the ceiling. He couldn't remember a single moment back in Enchancia when Sofia had kept still, and the new behaviour unnerved him, perhaps even more than her erratic outbursts and fearful cowering.

He walked into the kitchen area to rummage through the little food he had on hand. _I'm not the only one who hasn't eaten._ Sofia hadn't even complained about being hungry, and that combined with her extremely thin frame made him concerned with how well she'd been fed in her three years at the asylum.

Whatever she'd gone through, he'd make damned sure she was taken care of properly as long as she was under his roof. He recalled some salted fish and retrieved it, along with a jar of mayonnaise and a half loaf of bread that, by some miracle, hadn't molded as of yet. He heard her shift on the mattress and could swear he felt her eyes boring into his back, but he decided to pay her no mind unless she gave some indication that she wanted his attention.

He fixed two sandwiches, then set them on the table, making a show of not looking over at her. She was in control, this was her show. If she was hungry, it was up to her to approach without his coercion. He took a bite of his sandwich, trying not to appear too victorious at the slapping sound of her bare feet against the wooden planks.

The chair made a loud screech as she dragged it out so she could sit. He observed her through the cover of his lashes as she hesitantly lifted the food to her mouth. She nibbled at a corner, reminding him of a small mouse, or perhaps the rabbit she used to keep as a pet. _I wonder what became of him when she was sent away?_ Did she worry about the animal she loved so greatly, or were thoughts of his welfare buried below much more troubling concerns?

The sounds of Sofia gagging and wretching on her first substantial bite tore him from his musings, and he looked up in shock as she threw the sandwich down and ran to the wash room at a speed he was astonished to find her spindly legs could reach.

He was up in a second, closing the gap to make sure the girl was okay. The door was locked behind her, a problem easily remedied with magic, but he thought it best to seek her permission first.

"Sofia..."

"Go away!" Cedric closed his eyes and took a deep breath, reminding himself that he needed to be patient with the princess.

"I just want to make sure you're alright." He explained, rattling the handle for emphasis. The noises coming from behind the door left nothing to the imagination. She was vomiting, emptying her stomach of the meager crumbs she'd eaten. "Can I come in?" The cabin went eerily quiet, to the point where Cedric could swear his own pulse was deafening.

As he listened at the door, he heard something new and even more distressing. Muffled sobbing echoed off the bathroom tile, the cries threatening to break him, to crush him under the weight of her despair. His jaw ticked as he eyed the locked door handle, trying to discern when it would be prudent to give up on waiting for her invitation.

Something she said earlier flitted through his mind, prompting him to action. ' _There's razors... in the bathroom_.' He tore his glove off and wrapped his hand around the doorknob. The lock gave way without a hint of resistance, and he threw the door open to catch her right in the middle of the self-destructive act.

"You foolish girl!" He chastized her, prying the bloodied straight blade from her clenched fist and tossing it unceremoniously to the floor behind them. If she regretted what she'd been doing, she gave no indication. "Why would you do such a thing? Have I been anything other than kind to you since you got here?"

She tried to fend him off, but he was beyond caring as he stretched her arm out, running his palm against her wounds once again. Fresh tears trickled soundlessly down her hollow cheeks as the rended flesh closed itself under his touch.

"I said no one would hurt you anymore." He muttered, trying to appear far more calm than he felt. "That applies to you, too. I don't know what I would do if I lost you again."

"You have been." Cedric furrowed his brow, unsure of her meaning. "You've been unspeakably cruel." She whispered, staring down at her newly healed wounds. He sucked air in through his nose, squelching the knee jerk reaction of arguing the point.

"This method of torment is worse than any other you've ever used, and I can only guess that was your intention from the very start." She spoke slowly, concisely, a detached indifference that felt off considering they were candidly discussing her pain. "I never thought I would say this, but please... Please."

"I-I don't know what you're asking of me." He confessed, his gaze sweeping over the distraught young woman seated beside him on the floor.

"How could you? I'm already begging, what else do you want from me?" She turned her face towards the wall and shifted, parting her knees slowly. "Just... grant me one favor? Change back first. I can't bear to watch Cedric do it again."

Cedric hated himself for what he was about to do. He'd gone to sleep with every intention of letting her take the lead, but she was presenting an opportunity he might never get another chance at, and he made the decision to take it. Leaning forward, he brushed the knuckles of his closed hand against her leg, causing her to draw in a shuddering gasp.

"Sofia... Say my name." He waited in nervous anticipation for the girl to speak again.

"Doctor-" The saccharine grin had returned from earlier, the one that meant she'd been cornered only enough to give the easy answer, and Cedric knew he would have to press her even harder to find the truth. This time he flattened his palm, running it up the outside of her thigh and mentally praying to whatever gods would listen that he wouldn't break her with his meddling.

"My _real_ name. Say it, now!" Sofia scrunched her eyes shut as his fingers traced light circles against her flesh, and she curled her fists in front of the closure of the knee breeches she wore, relieving Cedric by showing some semblance of self-preservation despite her earlier fit and the way she pleaded for her own ruin. She opened her mouth to reply, and he steeled himself for what was to come.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** I know, cliffhangers! But Cedric wasn't supposed to find out anywhere near this early. The direction of the chapter just happened, and I tried to rewrite it but it wouldn't cooperate at all. The next chapter (which is written) is a flashback chapter. Finally, answers to some of the great questions that have been sent my way. Not all, but some.

Also, if you've never had to know this before, then congrats, but FYI: mayo = totally a trigger for what she'd been through. A pretty common one, in fact. Hence, Sofia's renewed freak out at the end there. She basically not only was triggered, but thinks he did it on purpose while pretending to be nice.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's note:** This was getting unwieldy, so I split it. Haven't 100% decided if the second half will be next or if we'll flip back to "current" Cedric and Sofia. Since I've been keeping track, this was written to Hoodie by Hey Violet, Special Needs by Placebo, and My Consequence by Hey Violet.

* * *

"This is wrong!" Sofia protested, turning from the sight of her friend and mentor being dragged out of the throne room so she could face her parents as she tried to defend him. "Dad, he saved us!'

"That's why he won't be executed." Roland explained, his tone conveying his growing impatience with the topic. "I cannot overlook treason, Sofia, under any circumstances. Do you have any idea what sort of dangers that would invite?"

"Mr Cedric is my friend." She insisted, unwilling to let the matter rest until the sorcerer was reinstated.

"I understand that he tricked you. He fooled all of us... The man is a fraud and he should be relieved to leave this palace with his head attached." Sofia clenched her little fists, staring at her father defiantly as she opened her mouth to retort, only to be silenced by the sound of his voice. "Not another word. In fact, I command you never to speak _that man's_ name again. Do you understand?"

"Rollie!" Her mother broke in, no longer content to sit back and be a silent witness to their confrontation. "Have a little compassion, she's just lost her best friend." Her mother's interruption distracted the king, and Sofia seized the opportunity to retrieve Cedric's wand from the slackened grip of an unsuspecting guard.

"Bring. Him. Back." She commanded, aiming her wand at her father.

"Sofia, put the wand down." Miranda coaxed her, taking a cautious step toward the little girl. Sofia didn't look at her, she didn't dare take her eyes off of Roland before she could persuade him.

"I won't. The only way to get it out of my hand is if Mr Cedric himself asks me for it." She stood her ground, keeping the wand trained on her target. Behind her, another guard ran into the throne room, bowing to the king.

"Your Majesty, the prisoner has escaped!" He cried out, and everyone, including Sofia, turned their attention to him.

"You lost Grimtrix? How could you do that?" She demanded, alarmed at the prospect of having to face the headmaster again, this time without the aid of her royal sorcerer.

"It seems he had another stone, on a wand he was hiding in his robe." The guard offered apologetically, splaying his hands out in a gesture of helplessness. "He froze everyone... I-I barely made it out to warn you."

"Take the princess to her room!" Roland ordered, standing from his throne to gesture to the other guards. "I want guards posted outside at all times."

"No, Dad! Don't you see, we need Mr Cedric back. He defeated Grimtrix before, he can-" Roland nodded and two guards grabbed the girl by each of her arms, not hard enough to hurt but firmly enough to prevent her escape, while a third pried the wand out of her hands. She could hear her mother trying to reason with the king as she was removed from the throne room, but he refused to give the order for them to release her, claiming that this was the best way to keep her safe until Grimtrix was apprehended and brought back into custody.

...

Sofia ignored the knock at her door, but the visitor entered all the same. The older gentleman smiled gently as he carried a tray of food in, though she paid it little mind. She'd moved past hunger, to the point where she only felt nauseated by the scents of food that wafted toward her when he lifted the lid from the plate.

"No thank you, Baileywick." Sofia refused politely, rolling to face away from him.

"Please at least try to eat. It's been days." His concern was genuine, unlike some of the people her father had sent to persuade her, and she wished she could say something to ease his fretting over her, but she felt like she'd run out of words, especially false promises that she was okay.

Her best friend was gone forever, the sorcerer who caused all of the trouble to begin with was still at large, and her own father was keeping her trapped in her room like a prisoner. It was, in all honesty, difficult to imagine how anything would ever be alright again. Even if she was free and Grimtrix wasn't, there would always be a gaping hole in her world where Cedric had once been.

Behind her, the Steward sighed lightly. She heard a light clatter as he set the tray down, though she suspected that he already knew it would be untouched when he returned for it.

"If there's anything I can do..." He tried, but Sofia simply shook her head against her pillows. Soon, she heard his retreating footsteps and the sound of the door closing.

...

"Why aren't you eating?" Roland's booming voice echoed through her chambers, just as her door slamming into the wall behind it had seconds ago when he barged in.

The soft grey rabbit who was napping beside her, snuggled up despite all his claims of not enjoying such intimacy, now dove beneath her covers, hiding from the racket. Sofia didn't bother to dignify his question with an answer, or even to turn and face him.

"Cedric is gone, Sofia. Even if I wanted to bring him back, it's too late. Do you understand?" When she didn't respond again, he let out a frustrated groan. "You're making everyone worry themselves sick over you. Your mother is half-panicked. How long do you intend to keep behaving like this?" Fed up, she sat herself upright and spun to stare at him stubbornly.

"How am I expected to behave?" She quizzed, letting her anger bubble to the surface. It felt good to let it out after suppressing it, and most of her other emotions, for days. "What's the proper way to act when you find out that your father can and will make the people you care about most disappear?"

"Sofia, he _betrayed_ us. He put you and everyone else in danger." Roland seethed, then quickly softened. Too quickly, making it obvious that he was masking his own indignation in a ploy for her cooperation. "Your loyalty is admirable, but I guarantee he holds none for you."

"Get out!" She hardly recognized her own voice, an animalistic growl that encouraged something other than feigned sympathy from the king.

"If you won't listen to reason, then you leave me no choice. Just remember that you forced my hand in this." He stormed out as dramatically as he'd come in, and Sofia could hear the strains of an argument in the hallway outside, despite the buffer of her antechamber. For the first time since she'd been locked in by the guards, she climbed out of bed, crossing the large room and then dashing stealthily through the smaller one to press her ear against the door.

"Miranda, she's clearly been manipulated by him. Or, or she's under a spell. She needs help!" Her eyes widened at his claims, and she tried the handle so she could go out and defend herself, but it was locked again.

"Sofia's just upset. She'll start feeling better, soon." Her mother attempted to calm him, and for a moment things went quiet, leading Sofia to believe that either they had left or Miranda was successful.

"What if she doesn't? What if I'm right?" He argued forcefully. "Are you willing to watch her starve in there, while you pretend that she'll recover?"

"Of course not, but those places..." They must have been walking away, now, because they became more and more difficult to hear until the antechamber was plunged back into silence.

...

Exactly what they were discussing: the places her mother had started to protest, the way her father accused her of forcing his hand, she had no idea what it all meant. Three days later, her mother visited in the morning and dismissed Violet so she could tend to her dressing and grooming herself. Miranda's eyes were red and puffy, the way they had been when her husband died.

"What's going on?" Sofia watched the woman's flustered reaction in the mirror. It was the first thing that had been said by either of them since her mother had come back alone, and Miranda nearly dropped the silver hairbrush in surprise.

"Nothing." It was a lie, but Sofia remained quiet, waiting for her to say something else. "You're... A coach is coming to take you to the doctor's. Just to be safe, so we can make sure everything's okay."

Sofia frowned at herself in the glass. A doctor's appointment wasn't such a big deal that it would explain Miranda's strange behavior. She didn't have long to ponder on it, though, because someone banged on the door.

"Come in." Miranda called out, and Sofia studied the drawn, hesitant face of the guard who entered.

"The, um... The carriage is outside, my Queen." He explained in a hushed, almost reverent tone, the sort they used within the walls of the Cathedral her father insisted they visit on Sunday mornings.

"Just!" Miranda held out a hand, giving off the impression that she meant to fend him off if it came to that. "Give us a minute..." He nodded stiffly and hurried away, though Sofia only heard the inner door close behind him.

"Mom?" She had so many questions that she didn't quite know where to begin, so it was all she managed to squeak out.

"It's not a big deal." Miranda reassured her, running the bristles through her hair before fixing it into a high ponytail. "Be good for the doctor, and I'll see you soon, okay?"

Sofia stood to leave, and her mother gathered her into an embrace.

"I love you, Sofia." Miranda whispered into her ear as she held her close. Sofia pushed away enough to study her mother as fresh tears trailed down her face.

"I love you, too, but-" She was interrupted when the door swung open again, this time to reveal Roland in his traveling clothes.

"We really have to go, now. Come along, Sofia." Miranda nudged her toward him, and she was too bewildered by the strange goings-on of the morning to do anything more than comply, accepting his outstretched hand and allowing him to lead her out, though she was still unspeakably angry with him.

...

The coach ride was silent, save for the occasional gruff sounds of Roland clearing his throat, and the rustling of him shifting anxiously on the bench opposite hers. Sofia was thankful for a reprieve from the awkward atmosphere as they touched ground and a hand shot inside to help her climb out. Her father stepped outside behind her, shielding his eyes with one flattened hand as he turned his face up to scan the large building.

Sofia was wowed by the structure. She'd never been to a hospital before, at least that she could think of. In both the village and the palace, someone had always come to her if she was ill, which happened infrequently enough that she couldn't really recall the details of the examinations.

Her father began to head for the grand double doors, and Sofia followed his lead, though she lagged behind to study the details of the hospital as they went inside and through the long, twisting hallways.

They stopped at a door with glass windows that couldn't be seen through, and a placard on the wall beside it read "Reeve Josson, Doctor of Psychiatry". Sofia had never heard of psychiatry before, and wondered at it's meaning, but Roland was already through the door, so she set her curiosity aside and rushed in after him.

Inside, she spied a portly old man, grandfatherly in appearance, sitting behind a desk that was covered by thick tomes and haphazard stacks of paperwork. He grinned warmly at her, and she very nearly returned the sentiment.

"Welcome, you must be Princess Sofia. I've heard so much about you." His voice, too, was charming, and she accepted the handshake he offered. "Sit down. Sit down, girl, and let's get to know one another."

She took one of the chairs, expecting her father to claim the other, but he stayed on his feet by the door.

"No offense, Your Majesty, but these are private matters. Perhaps Sofia would be more comfortable discussing them if you waited outside." He waved his hand, and Sofia was astonished by Roland's quick retreat.

"I'm not really sure what I'm supposed to do." Sofia confessed, fidgeting with her skirts. "I don't think I've ever been to a hospital." Dr Josson leaned back in his seat, folding his hands behind his head as he studied her carefully.

"All you have to do is tell me how you're feeling. Your father and I have already talked, and it sounds to me like your having a very rough go of things." Sofia relaxed, glad to hear that such a simple thing was all that was expected of her. "I'm here to listen, not to judge, so you can tell me whatever you'd like."

Everything came pouring out of her. All the frustration and rage she'd been holding back since she witnessed Cedric's banishment from the kingdom, her concerns for his well-being now that he was all alone in the world, how Grimtrix's escape and continued evasion of the guards filled her with absolute dread. By the end, she was crying even more than her mother had that morning, but not out of sorrow or anything of that nature. The tears emptied her of all of her negative emotions, leaving her with nothing but a strange cleansing sensation, even though none of her troubles were actually solved.

"To think that you've been holding all of that in... It must have been very difficult for you." The doctor mused, standing from his seat. He came around the desk to pat her on the shoulder, and she couldn't avoid smiling up at him appreciatively. "I'm going to go have a word with your father. Are you alright here by yourself?" Sofia nodded, feeling more balanced and content than she had in over a week. She reclined against the leather back of her seat while he left the room, closing the door tightly behind him.

...

He returned a short while later with the King in tow. Roland looked to be in somewhat higher spirits, and sat down beside Sofia while Dr Josson reclaimed his seat behind the messy desk.

"Sofia, your father tells me you went to a sleep away camp last year. Is that right?" The doctor asked, leaning his elbows onto the cherry wood surface to peer over at her.

"Yes, Camp Wilderwood." She confirmed it, though she couldn't see what that had to do with anything.

"Well, we have something similar here, where patients stay for a while. There's crafts, and activities, and you would come in and talk to me for an hour everyday. Do you think you'd like to give it a try?" She chanced a quick peek at Roland, who tipped his head ever so slightly at her.

"For how long?"

* * *

Additional note: Saw a Tumblr (I think) post where someone explained that Grimtrix should have had an extra Medusa stone, most likely on his wand, because the one sorcerer refused and we see him put it on his wand, but then he's using one on his scepter when he gets defeated. I read it, and I remember thinking "What a cool thing to notice, someone should write a fic with that." Well, when writing this chapter I realized that I'm someone, and I write fics, so here it is.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's note:** This chapter is late, short, and half flashback, so I'm sorry about that. I'm working on going back and retooling an older story so that I can finally finish it, but this story kept calling me back. The next chapter should be more like the previous ones as far as length goes.

 _The first week in the hospital really was just like sleep away camp. Sofia participated in activities run by some of the staff and made projects for everyone she knew, even Roland now that she was feeling somewhat less upset with him, though she doubted things would ever go back to the way they were before he banished the sorcerer,._

 _As her anger and sadness began to dissipate, ravenous hunger swept in to replace them, though the portions were kept small out of fear that she'd be sick if she began to eat regular sized meals without readjusting. She was, however, provided with spoonfuls of peanut butter whenever the mood struck her, provided by the sweet young nurse who reminded her a little of Violet and told her stories about her own little sister and the adventures they went on together on her days off._

 _Today, Sofia was working on a painting of Dr Josson, which she hoped to give him as a gift when she departed for home. There were no wands or magic paintbrushes allowed in the hospital, because magic itself was strictly prohibited for the safety of the patients, but she enjoyed the act of painting all the same, losing herself in the rhythmic brush strokes._

 _"That's really good!" She peeked over her shoulder, but she knew him by his voice._

 _Ben came to the hospital two days after she did. Three years older than her, he was tall and slender with long brown hair that was kept neatly in a plait down his back. He had ice blue eyes that reminded her of the sled-dogs she'd seen on one of her trips to Freezenburg._

 _"Thanks." She mumbled, turning back to her work._

 _"Hey, your session is next, right?" He questioned, and Sofia nodded as she dipped her paintbrush into the grey pot. "When you finish, do you want to go to the library with me?"_

 _The library was, in all honesty, just a screened off area with some cushions and a few well worn books, but it was one of the most relaxing spots in the ward, and she and Ben were the only ones who really made use of it._

 _"Of course." She smiled over at him, still as grateful for his company as she had been when he first approached her. The rest of the patients were all adults, and before he came the time in between activities was dull enough for her to get lost in her thoughts and start feeling awful all over again._

 _An attendant approached them, tapping Sofia on the shoulder to alert her that she was expected in the doctor's office for her session, so she hastily cleaned up her things, with some assistance from Ben, and rushed down the hall._

 _"Come in, Sofia." He acknowledged her knock, and she twisted the doorknob and swung the barrier open to step inside. The sight of the man sitting there amongst his usual chaos brought a hint of a smile to her face, and she easily relaxed into the chair in front of his desk. "The nurses tell me you have your appetite back."_

 _"And then some." She tittered nervously, hoping he was as pleased with this news as the other staff had been. "It's like my stomach wants to make up for lost time."_

 _"I'm glad to hear it." He leaned back, studying her curiously, and she did her best to appear the picture of good health. "We'll adjust your portions over the next week. When you can handle three full meals in a day, then I think it'll be alright to send you home."_

 _*Home.* She hesitated, not entirely sure how she felt about the concept. Home would be a very different place without her long time friend, and it suddenly sounded very lonely. She couldn't stay in the hospital forever, though, and the sooner she got back, the sooner she would begin to adjust to her new life without him._

 _"T-thank you, Dr Josson." She managed, just barely, to whisper._

 _"It's normal, you know." He reassured her, shifting forward again. "To be nervous, to worry what things will be like when you return. Those are healthy, reasonable concerns."_

 _"I just... The palace is going to be so lonely without him." The doctor smiled warmly at her, bobbing his head in a slow, measured manner - the type he used to show that he was listening and she should continue on a train of thought. "I spent so much of my days in that workshop, tidying and helping out whenever he would let me." A thought struck her for the first time, and she let out a tiny gasp. "His raven. I wonder what's become of him. Is anyone taking care of Wormwood in his absence?"_

 _"Perhaps you could take him on. It might help you to feel close to Cedric, when you're missing him. You did say you were fond of animals, didn't you?" Sofia shook her head, frowning to herself._

 _"Yes, but Wormwood never did like me much. I don't think he likes anyone, to be perfectly honest." She chuckled, bittersweet thoughts of the day they visited Hexley Hall playing through her mind. "He told me once - oh, he had a speaking potion dropped on him, did I mention that?" Dr Josson indicated that she hadn't, and she worried her lip, choosing her next words. "He said something along the lines of... that I didn't know what it was like, having a bungling fool like Mr Cedric for a Master. I didn't argue the point then, because Mr Cedric was right there and I didn't wish to draw attention to it, but I understood then that he didn't truly see me as his apprentice, or he would have realized that I had the exact same Master." She sucked in a deep breath, splaying her hands out to signal that she didn't really know what else to say about the bird._

 _"How did you feel when he said that?" Sofia cocked her head, considering this._

 _"I think I felt... frustrated. Because Mr Cedric loved that bird. He believed they were best friends, and hearing Wormwood speak about him in such a manner, finding out that Wormwood saw him exactly the same way as everyone else in the palace..." She sighed, clenching the hem of her hospital gown tightly. "It was a betrayal. It was a betrayal to Mr Cedric that his familiar thought him a fool, and it was a betrayal to me that he didn't believe me to be a proper apprentice."_

 _"That's very interesting." He hummed, letting her words sink in for a moment. "That 'betrayal' as you put it, that upset you a lot, didn't it?"_

 _"I suppose it did." She mumbled her agreement._

 _"But the betrayal to your family, you believed that should be forgiven?" Her eyes widened at the implications. There was a difference, wasn't there? Cedric trusted Wormwood implicitly, but her family had never once held the sorcerer in such high regard. "It seems like you don't have an answer to that right now. Would you like to wait until next time so you can think it over?"_

 _"Yes." Was the only reply she could come up with, distracted as she was with seeking such an answer. "Dr Josson, I did forgive Wormwood later. He helped us out of a bad situation that day. I just... I thought you should know that."_

 _"I'm glad to hear it. I know things like forgiveness mean a lot to you."_

...

"My _real_ name. Say it, now!" Sofia scrunched her eyes shut as his fingers massaged her flesh, and she curled her fists in front of the closure of the knee breeches she wore, relieving Cedric by showing some semblance of self-preservation despite her earlier fit and the way she pleaded for her own ruin. _If this doesn't work, I'll have destroyed any chance of getting her to believe me._ It was a calculated risk, but a risk all the same. All he needed was a name. Just one lousy name and he would find the bastard that did this to her, drag him kicking and screaming back to the cottage, and prove to her once and for all that he was not that man. And then... oh, then there would be hell to pay.

She opened her mouth to reply, and he steeled himself for what was to come. Just as quickly she shut it again and lunged into him with all her might, sending him sprawling onto his back across the tile floor. Cedric closed his eyes, cursing himself for trying something so blatantly stupid, as she fled the bathroom.

"Sofia, wait." He called out, wincing at the sounds of destruction coming from the main living area.

Ignoring the pain that shot through him, he scrambled to his feet to march out after her. The room was suspiciously vacant, though he found it hard to believe that she'd worked up the nerve to try the door, given how frightened she seemed to be of it earlier. Something poked him in the back, and he glanced over his shoulder to find her standing there. He couldn't see what she was holding, but he could certainly surmise its intended purpose. "Go ahead then. It was wrong of me to touch you just now, and I doubt you'll believe me when I say I was only trying to help."

"Change. Back." She growled out, and he nearly breathed a sigh of relief when it dawned on him that she might not do it so long as he looked like, well... him.

"I'm afraid I can't do that." He confessed, shrugging as casually as he could muster. "So if you're going to do what I think you are, it'll have to be like this."

His mind raced, trying to discern just what it was she was threatening him with. She'd noted the kitchen knives earlier, and it seemed a good possibility. There was also his wand, but as far as he knew she hadn't practiced her magic in the last three years, and truthfully it wasn't a very good wand to begin with. Whatever it was, it was now pressed more firmly between his shoulders, and he resisted the urge to react in any way that might further scare the girl.

"Fine!" She hissed, and every part of him clenched in preparation of his fate. Instead, she slipped back into the bathroom. He spun on his heels and tried the door, but it was locked.

"Let me in!" He demanded, pounding against the wood.

An unlocking spell would work, but now that he had an inkling of why she would want to lock herself in there, he didn't have time to fuss with such a spell, one that required the mental maneuvering of all the inner workings of the tumbler. He groaned, aware that his best option would also be the spell that drained him the most.

He closed his eyes and focused, and the next instant he was back inside, standing over her as the smoke cleared.

"How many times do I have to tell you? I won't let you harm..." He trailed off, taking stock of the astonishment plastered across her features.

"How did you do that spell?" She prodded, quickly covering her surprise with deep suspicion. Cedric chuckled, running a weary hand through his bangs and staring at the princess in disbelief. _Why the hell didn't I think of that sooner?_

"Because it's _my_ spell." She shook her head furiously, sending dishevelled locks splaying in all directions about her. "Sofia, I didn't even teach you the transportation spell. How could I possibly know it if I were anyone else?"


End file.
